TOW All the Angst
by Leondra
Summary: When Chandler struggles with bad news, the group has to fight to stay together. Some CM. DISCONTINUED: I was losing track of the plot, and have no desire to rewrite it or bring it back on track, but I'm actually rather fond of it. Give it a looksee.
1. In Which The Stage Is Set

**AN: An AU fic. Takes place after TOW Chandler in a box. So he's still with Kathy. **

Entering the apartment, Chandler threw his keys down on the counter and made a beeline for his bedroom, shrugging off his jacket as he went. He did a double-take as he caught sight of Joey, sitting in his barka-lounger and staring at him, sandwich forgotten in his hand.

"You and Kathy have another fight?" Joey asked from around a mouthful of ham, and Chandler was struck by how grave Joey seemed. It left Chandler feeling child-like a petulant. He nodded slowly.

"Hey, it'll be all right," Joey muttered, seeing the deer-in-headlights look Chandler wore. "You guys are _made_ for each other." Joey didn't expect Chandler to believe him; not when he didn't even believe himself. Kathy and Chandler had an extremely…passionate relationship. More even, then Joey and Kathy had. And everything suggested that they would work well together. They liked the same books, and tv shows, (if you didn't count _Baywatch_) and had the same sense of humor, but in Joey's opinion, they were _too _alike. A fear of commitment that led to doing something irrevocably stupid. And they were often unable to admit when they were wrong. Even when they weren't fighting, Joey could sense that something was about to happen that would blow their relationship out of the water.

Not that Joey would tell Chandler any of this. Chandler was still worried about how Joey felt about their relationship, and would surely see any negative remarks as an attempt to get them to break up.

Joey knew he wasn't clever like Chandler or equipped with an unhealthy amount of knowledge like Ross, but if he learned anything from the whole "Kathy Incident" it was that he was the only one of the three who would never betray a friend. He'd always known that Ross wasn't as saintly as he made himself out to be- he had cheated on someone who was supposed to be his soul mate, for God's sake. Joey had never _been_ in love, but he was never less than honest with his one-night stands. If they expected more, he would just have to tell them he wasn't looking for a serious relationship. Or Chandler would- preferable armed with witty banter and pancakes.

And Chandler- Chandler had made the ultimate betrayal. A while ago, he'd kissed Mary-Angela and then couldn't remember _which _of his sisters she _was_, but kissing Joey's girlfriend was just crossing the line. He'd forgiven Chandler, but their relationship now seemed tainted, not at all like the brotherly bond they had shared before.

At times like this, thought, it didn't seem to matter. The bottom line was that Joey didn't want Chandler to get hurt, and right now, it seemed that was exactly where Chandler was headed.

* * *

Monica was worried. This was not unusual in itself; she always managed to find _something _to worry about. But worrying about Chandler because of something other than his relationships was new. Joey was convinced they were having another fight. If they were, Chandler wouldn't hesitate in telling them. He never missed a chance to complain about his love life. But now he was sullen and silent, and had even missed several opportunities for a sarcastic rejoinder in the past hour alone.

It was ridiculous.

She chanced another look at him. He was hiding behind his newspaper, but Monica hadn't heard therustle of paper as he turned a page for at least twenty minutes. Discreetly leaning over so she could see around the paper confirmed her suspicions: he wasn't even looking at the paper, but instead staring gloomily at the ceiling. The dark shadows under his eyes suggested he hadn't slept properly, and his mouth was set into a straight, hard line. As if sensing her eyes on him, he looked around suddenly, frowning when he caught her gaze.

"What?" he asked impatiently, and Monica frowned back.

"Nothing," she said flatly, narrowing her eyes at him. Didn't he care enough to tell them if something was wrong? Or did he expect him to wallow alone in his misery? It was when he got up abruptly and left the coffeehouse that Monica decided it was time to call in reinforcements.

* * *

"I'm telling you, Ross, it's not just another fight." Monica sighed impatiently. Surely Ross should know the symptoms of a fight by now? Instead he was being a typical guy: using any excuse to avoid talking about "feelings."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" he asked in exasperation, carding his hands through his hair.

"I don't know! Get him to open up."

"Yes, I- I _know _that. But how?"

Monica glowered at him.

"You've known him since college. You'll think of something."

* * *

"So, how did the peacock bite you again?" Ross asked desperately. He had tried to get Chandler either nostalgic or defensive with college anecdotes, but the most Chandler had produced in the past hour was a weak smile.

"Chandler?" Ross tried, when it became clear that Chandler had stopped listening altogether. He was staring at the black tv, absent-mindedly twirling a pencil around his right fingers.

"Um, some feat." Ross muttered, for lack of anything better to say, rubbing his temples.

"What?" Chandler finally responded, brow furrowed in confusion.

"To do that, when you're left-handed." Ross, said, gesturing lamely to the pencil. Chandler stared at him.

"I'm not a lefty."

"Oh. Right." Ross shoved his hands in his pockets and scuffed a shoe against the floor. "See, you learn something new about someone _every single _day."

"Ross _I'm fine_. Just go home, will ya?" Chandler rubbed a hand across his face, faintly surprised to see Ross glaring at him when he looked up.

"No, you are not fine! We're worried about you- all of us! Now _what_ is going on? Can't you trust us enough to tell us?"

Chandler stood suddenly, almost knocking the stool over. "Do you _really_ want to know, Ross? The past week, I've been thinking that you guys are the best friends I've ever had, and I might lose you guys, because my white blood cell count is _abnormal_, and I'm going to get a _bone marrow exam _next week. I am going to get a FREAKIN' LONG NEEDLE STUCK IN MY HIPBONE!"

Ross stood frozen. His first thought was that this was April Fools' Day, but a quick glance at Chandler's deathly white face proved that this was no prank. He looked horrified that he had told Ross that, and after a moment, sunk back down onto the stool.

"Chandler, I-"

"You don't have to say anything, Ross. Just- just promise me you won't tell the others, yet, all right? Y'know, it's not a sure thing, and I'd rather not-" Chandler's voice broke, and he paused a moment to collect himself before attempting a joke. "It's kinda nice, y'know, for them to think I'm having difficulties with Kathy. I get the good ice cream."

Ross resisted the urge to yell at him again (this was _not_ the time to be making jokes, but it also wasn't the time to have a falling out with Chandler), and just nodded, not trusting himself to speak around the lump in his throat. He made his way to the door, and, with only a slight hesitation, exited.

Once he'd left, Chandler rested his head in his arms and fought desperately not to let the tears in his eyes fall.


	2. In Which Lucy Glass Makes A Cameo Appear...

**AN: Well, here's the second chapter! Thanks so much for the supportive reviews Jayne Leigh, rachelgreengeller, mondlerlove, LucyGoose, Kristy. **

**rachelgreengeller: I never consciously thought about Chandler confiding in Ross more than Joey when I was writing the first chapter. The way I saw it, Chandler didn't mean to tell Ross instead of Joey- it just slipped out because he was angry that Ross wouldn't leave him alone. There _is _probably going to be some future Chandler/Ross bonding, because I was always upset that there wasn't much in the actual sitcom. **

**mondlerlove: No, he hasn't broken up with Kathy…yet. I actually liked Kathy, but she's not gonna stay. **

**LucyGoose: Wow! Thank you for your astonishing review! I hope I don't ruin something good with my lack of technical knowledge. I've done research, but it's not the same thing as being familiar with this sort of thing. I'm glad you like how I wrote the characters- I was worried about Ross especially, as I will be focusing a lot on him in the future. Yes, it will be Mondler, although it will probably focus on the group dynamic more than their romance. **

**Kristy: It is more upbeat, I guess. I don't know that much about leukemia, but I've done research, so hopefully I'll do alright. I was concerned about writing Chandler. I'm not so good with his kind of humor, especially in writing. I'm more spontaneous and I have to be in the moment, so I'd appreciate any constructive comments about in-characterness. **

**I probably wasn't that clear earlier, so…here goes. This fic takes place about two weeks after TOW Chandler in a box. I'm pretty much ignoring what happened after that. Chandler's relationship with Joey is fragile at the moment, because even though Joey did forgive Chandler for kissing Kathy, their friendship isn't quite back to normal yet. **

**Chandler was lying to Joey in the beginning of Chap. 1 when he let Joey believe that he'd had another fight with Kathy, because he didn't want to worry anyone by telling them he could have leukemia. Kathy and Chandler haven't broken up yet. Although it's totally irrelevant, Kathy and Chandler have slept together and Monica did give Chandler that sex "lesson." **

**This fic is going to be Mondler, or at least _pre_-Mondler, which in my case means a lot of extremely un-subtle hints toward future Mondler.**

**As for this chapter specifically, it's pretty much pointless. It includes a filler scene that isn't really necessary, along with an update on how things are going with everyone a couple of days after the end of the first chapter. No direct and very little indirect Ross or Phoebe. No Joey at all, really. **

**That was an insanely long post, so on with chapter 2: _In Which Lucy Glass Makes A Cameo Appearence_. **

Rachel was beginning to wonder if three of her friends had joined some sort of cult. First Chandler had been acting moody and sullen, and now Ross and even _Monica _seemed to have been sucked into what Phoebe had taken to calling 'the mire of despair'. When Rachel came home from work, Monica was determinedly scrubbing the bathroom floor, and Rachel couldn't help but note that the living room, kitchen, and even the balcony had reached a new level of immaculateness.

Ross' behavior was even worse, because it was so much more unusual. While Monica always cleaned when upset, Ross usually whined about what was bothering him until everyone had long since stopped feeling sorry for him. Now, however, he was rarely talking at all; he didn't even respond when Rachel had gone so far as to ask him how things were at the museum. It was scary to realize that she would _much_ rather long discussions about the newly-added feature in the Jurassic period display then this.

It was quite clear to Rachel that the problem branched from whatever was bothering Chandler, but she hadn't been able to confront him as of yet. He hadn't been over for breakfast for the past three days, and had been conspicuously absent from their weekly Media Appreciation Night (which usually consisted of them renting several movies and generally mocking them, with the jibes led- naturally- by Chandler).

Gunther had reported that Chandler had been spotted in the coffeehouse, but that he'd ordered his coffee to go. Joey had reported that Chandler left early for work and went straight to his bedroom when he got home. What they ('_they_' being Phoebe and Rachel, since Joey was always scouting for Chandler and Mon and Ross were completely out of their minds) agreed on was that him going to work on time was the weirdest part, since it was _completely _unprecedented. It was one of those unchangeable things that all six of them were aware of: Monica hated dogs dressed up in baby's clothes; Ross hated _The Flinstones_; and Chandler hated his job, although he hated the fact that no one noticed if he didn't come in till after lunch more.

Phoebe's diagnosis was that it was a side-effect of eating meat, and that Rachel would soon get pulled into the mire as well. According to Phoebe, she was "already experiencing symptoms."

* * *

Lucy Glass talked at a truly alarming rate. Chandler suspected he would have known half of the girl's life story by now, if he had been able to understand what she was saying.

However, Lucy didn't get the chance to tell him the other half, as Monica appeared in the doorway, looking surprised to see a girl perched on Chandler's barka-lounger. In the moments in which Lucy stared curiously at Monica and Monica stared back, Chandler suddenly took in how this must look to Monica. Both of them half-dressed with bed head. Before he could point out that this was another one of Joey's girlfriends (leaving out the 'another' part for Lucy's benefit), the blonde smiled.

"Hello. You must be Kathy. I've managed to pry it out of Chandler. You're different than I expected, you know. I don't mean that in a bad way-"

"Um, Lucy?" Chandler interrupted. Monica looked shocked at the speed Lucy was talking, but Chandler's mind had automatically began to absorb this new form of speech after only an hour with her, decided to intervene. "This is _Monica_, my _friend_. Mon, this is Lucy, Joey's new girlfriend. He had to go to an early audition and I was keeping her company."

"Oh all right." Lucy seemed unruffled by her mistake. She finished off her pancakes and dumped her bowl in the sink. "Well, I really have to get to work- that new office building on 69th street- there have been ads everywhere- tell Joey I'll be by at six tonight, okay? We've got dinner reservations and they won't hold our table for long. I'll go change in the bathroom and be on my way."

As soon as the door closed behind her, Monica whirled on Chandler.

"So you've already told her more about what's been going on with you in the past week then you have us?"

_Doesn't waste any time, does she? _

"What are you talking about? I haven't told her anything." Monica glared at him, and Chandler, desperate for something to do with his hands, poured a little extra milk into his cereal.

"Kathy? _You told her about Kathy_!" Monica stared him down, hands clenched into fists at her side.

"Well, she asked me why I was here- she said Joey told her I'd be out with my girlfriend- and I said _Kathy _was visiting her parents. _That's_ how she learned Kathy's name. I don't _know_ where she would get a detailed mental image from that single sentence, and I don't care." Chandler didn't particularly feel like responding to the part where Monica had implied that he'd been avoiding them. Because that was an accusation _completely_ without substance. Well, _true_ substance. Well, there was a reason he chose not to respond.

"Chandler, that's not even the issue! You've been avoiding us, and I want to know why!" Chandler desperately wished that were the issue. He'd already argued against _that _issue. That issue could be written off as Monica being paranoid. _This_ on the other hand….

When he didn't respond, Monica cleared her throat menacingly, and he _would _have said he glared at him again, but it was more like one _continuous_ glower. Thankfully, he was saved by Lucy entering from the bathroom, fully dressed and a ball of clothes under one arm. She grabbed her purse and left after one hasty (well, for normal humans; almost slowly by her standards) reminder to tell Joey about the dinner reservations.

"Well, Chandler? Where have you _been_?"

_Crap. She's like one of those pit bulls. Once they get a hold of something, they won't let go no matter what. And people say I'm being stupid for hating dogs. _

Chandler stirred his now soggy cornflakes so fiercely that he created a whirlpool.

"Aw, shucks, did I miss curfew _again_? Pleeease don't ground me- I spent all week picking out my clothes for the party on Saturday."

Monica chose to ignore the sarcasm for once, which was unfortunate, as he'd actually been hoping to distract her with his finest weapon this time. "_I didn't mean just last night_. No one ever _sees_ you anymore. You've _completely_ changed your schedule; the only one of us that ever catches a glimpse of you is Joey, and _that's_ because you two are roommates."

"So I haven't been over for breakfast the past couple of days, so what? And we've missed each other at the coffeehouse; it's just a coincidence. Three days of coincidences isn't enough to call a changed schedule. I've just been busy at _work_."

"Sure, okay," Monica said, shaking her head in derision. "Because you love your job _soooo_ much."

"Look, it's a _job_. I don't have to like it the way all the rest of you guys like yours. Not everybody loves their job. In fact, _everyone_ I work with hates their job." Chandler was beginning to feel frustrated. This 'staying away from everyone' shit had seemed easy in theory. _He_ knew why he was doing it, and even if no one else what Ross did, they were _supposed_ to understand.

When he showed no signs of cooperation, Monica sighed in disgust. "Fine. I guess I'll see you…no wait, _I won't_." She left the apartment, slamming the door behind her.


	3. In Which Chandler and Kathy Talk

**Whoot! I am on a roll! This pattern will hopefully continue as long as I am not plagued by either writer's block or an unhealthy amount of homework. **

Monica groaned, flopping down on her bed and covering her face with her hands, an action made even more uncharacteristic by the fact that she hadn't even taken off her shoes first.

She had just spent the _entire day _with Rachel, who was making an obvious attempt to cheer her up, and frankly it was almost as grating as a day with her mother. Monica had burned up most of her energy reassuring Rachel that she was alright by pretending to enjoy the whole shopping spree, and the rest on trying not to strangle Rachel as she whined about her boyfriend. Apparently Monica had acted a little _too _cheerful, because Rachel had gotten the impression that Monica was perfectly fine and willing to hear Rachel complain about her love life.

Greg is distant blahblahblah. Greg doesn't do anything romantic blahblahblah ad infinitum. Monica loved Rachel, she really did, and she didn't want to drag Rachel into the pits of anxiety with her, but shouldn't Rachel notice and be concerned by how _depressed _two of her close friends were being? _Especially_ if one was her ex? Shouldn't she be trying to make them feel better as well? Shouldn't Rachel realize that the only thing Monica needed to be happy was for _Chandler_ to be happy? And Ross, of course, but Ross had been acting like his usual self until he'd gone over to cheer Chandler up.

Monica felt bad for yelling at Chandler, but why wasn't he coming to them (or more specifically, _her)? _That's what friends were for, after all.

If Chandler didn't revert back to type soon, Monica would definitely go mad.

* * *

Chandler had always thought that once he had a girlfriend that liked him for who he was, everything would just fall into place. Apparently, this was a _serious_ misconception. Kathy liked him for who he was- she had kissed him while she was going out with _Joey_, for God's sake! But he personally didn't consider 'falling into place' possibly _dying_, fighting with your girlfriend pretty much every day _before_ you've even informed her of this fact, and having your friends abandon you (okay, he _had_ abandoned _them_, but Ross at least knew what was going on. He could say _something_.)

Everything was ruined. If he were completely honest with himself, _he _had ruined it. Not by having an abnormal amount of white blood cells (although that had been the dilemma that started it all), but by how he'd reacted.

Because of him, Monica was furious, Joey was awkward, and Rachel and Phoebe were pretending he didn't exist. He'd never really been very close to either Rachel or Phoebe, but it still hurt. What if they really _didn't mind _that he was gone? Rachel hadn't noticed him one way or the other, and Phoebe had always seemed slightly annoyed by him. And another, more horrifying thought: what if _all of them _thought that way?

Chandler had the feeling he was being stupid, but there was no denying that, besides Monica, none of them had bothered to seek him out.

_You're such an ass, Chandler. You _have_ been avoiding them. _

Chandler got up off the sofa abruptly. He didn't think he was ready to tell the whole gang what was going on yet, but he knew it was completely ridiculous to keep it from Kathy. She was his _girlfriend_, and he couldn't just keep these things with her. Conveniently putting out of his mind the fact that he couldn't really keep this from his friends much longer, either, he grabbed the phone from its cradle and dialed her number.

* * *

**AN: Kathy-haters probably won't want to read this part, but it is important, so I suggest you do so anyway. **

"Um, Kathy? Kathy- Kathy. I…have to talk to you." Kathy stared at Chandler, trying to reign in her temper. He'd already said this on the phone and about three times since they'd greeted each other. She knew it must be fairly important for him to be so nervous, but his quirks had stopped being endearing about a week ago.

"Yes, Chandler," she asked patiently. He avoided her eyes.

"I- well, I don't exactly know how to say this, but I…I might have leukemia." Kathy couldn't know this, but that was the first time Chandler had actually said those words out loud. He had avoided repeating that fatal phrase when the doctor had told him it was a possibility, and hadn't actually said the word leukemia when he'd inadvertently let it slip to Ross. Now it seemed more final, but at the same time, he felt a small relief. He no longer had the feeling of living in denial. Now it all depended on how Kathy took it.

"Chandler," Kathy breathed after what felt like forever. "I don't…know what to say."

Chandler wanted to tell her that she didn't have to say anything, but they both knew that wasn't true. He needed some reassurance, and right now, it _had_ to be verbal. This wasn't one of his mother's romances- Chandler wasn't able to simply look into someone's eyes and tell what they were thinking. So he, in turn, stayed silent, eyes carefully trained on his coffee cup.

"Chandler," Kathy tried again, and he winced inwardly. Whenever she said his name more then once in the space of a minute, she was trying to procrastinate on telling him something. He knew, because he did the same thing to a much greater extent. "I don't think this is going to work." Chandler paled. He had expected a somewhat bad reaction, but for some reason, their relationship, however dysfunctional, had given him the impression that everything would always turn out all right. "I feel like such a bitch for doing this to you, especially now-" her voice broke, and Chandler noted with not a little alarm that tears were running down her cheeks. He wanted to comfort her, but she _was_, after all, breaking up with him. Chandler always preferred to avoid awkwardness. "But- I- I can't deal with this. I _want _to, but I just can't."

"So this is goodbye," Chandler murmured, fingers clenched around his coffee cup in an attempt to keep them from trembling.

"I suppose it is," Kathy replied. Although she had regained most of her composure, her voice was still shaky. Then abruptly, she kissed him. He tasted the salt of her tears (and his as well) and briefly wondered if he was, indeed, getting sucked into a romance novel, for he imagined he tasted both of their regret and sorrow as well. When she pulled back, she whispered hoarsely in his ear, "I love you."

And then she fled.


	4. In Which Things Get Worse Before They Ge...

**In Which Things Get Worse Before They Can Get Better**

In a rare and paradoxically importunate moment of optimism, Chandler thought that it was probably an extraordinarily convenient time for her to break it off (he preferred to avoid the term '_dump_') with him. None of his friends would see any change in his already miserable state; they wouldn't see him at all.

_She had said she loved him. _

He knew he had other things to worry about, much larger things. Even so, those words had replaced the doctor's in his head; successfully drowning out all other thought. She loved him. It was ironic. He had always suspected that their relationship would fail because she didn't love him as much as he loved her. She had loved him this time.

But it wasn't enough.

Because he was _diseased_.

Suddenly Chandler could _feel _it crawling over his body- like an army of red ants. Of course, it _figured_ that this would happen to him. When Fate decided to make someone's life miserable, it went all out.

This whole ordeal made him feel as if he had a constant hangover; and he tried not to wonder whether it was grief or merely _symptoms. _He wouldn't know; the pamphlets that the doctor had given him were stuffed in the back of his sock drawer.

Chandler wanted to tell the others, but had the sick feeling that they already _knew_, and wanted nothing to do with them. _Surely_ Ross hadn't been able to resist telling them all something so big, and wouldn't they have come and talked to him by now? Chandler didn't want to dwell on the possibilities.

So he sat holed up in his room; tucked underneath the old posters and the hole in the wall from his own private game of Hammer Darts.

* * *

Something had to be done, Joey was sure of it. Everyone else seemed to be counting on fact that Chandler would come around, but he _hadn't_. Three days had escalated into over a _week_.

And then there were four. Ross had disappeared, too, and Joey had checked to make sure that he wasn't with Chandler. Problem was, he couldn't _find _Chandler. He heard him in his bedroom, saw cereal and other dry goods disappear from the cupboards when he got up in the mornings, occasionally heard the shower running.

Joey grew afraid to go down to the coffeehouse; afraid that Chandler would be gone _completely _when he got back; afraid of the awkward silences Chandler's jokes used to fill; of the armrest of the ratty orange couch that you could actually _rest your arm on _because Chandler wasn't sitting on it.

He'd checked Chandler's office, only to find that Chandler had taken an extended leave of absence.

The truth was, Chandler had _already_ disappeared, in every true sense of the word.

* * *

None of them were facing reality. They had all gone down to see Ross when he hadn't come for breakfast, only to find he wasn't there. Monica had eventually thought to call her mother, and found that Ross was staying with their parents. Judy blamed it on Rachel, although she managed to slip in some not-so-subtle barbs about Monica in the process. Monica found the words stuck in her throat when she tried to tell the others. The mere fact that 'the others' now consisted only of Phoebe and Rachel (Joey was never at the coffeehouse anymore, and Monica was afraid to even look in the _directio_n of apartment 19) made her force down a sob.

_It was ruined_, Monica thought faintly. _How could it be ruined?_

It was Joey that had forced them all to see the game they were playing, but it was Phoebe that finally put an end to it.

* * *

Chandler heard the door bang open and wondered distractedly if they were being burgled. It was about time, really; they hadn't locked the front door for the past five years. He sat up blearily, head ringing (this time he was pretty sure it's a result of lack of any real sleep rather than symptoms) when he heard pounding on his bedroom door.

"Chandler, open up right now!" Phoebe screeches, and he felt a sudden pang of nostalgia as he realized that he hadn't heard Phoebe's voice in 8 days. It was unusual for any them to go even _one day _without seeing one another. This whole event had a surreal, nightmarish feel to it, and Chandler briefly considered pinching himself to see if he was actually awake. There wasn't much time to do anything though, because the door suddenly flew open (had Joey finally taught her how to pick locks?) and Phoebe burst in, armed with a bag that clinked when she set it forcefully down on the dresser.

"What is wrong with you?" Phoebe nearly spat, and Chandler tried to decide whether to answer truthfully or not. It appeared to be a rhetorical question, however, as Phoebe went on before he could decide. "Look, Chandler, I love you, we all love you, but if you don't tell us what the fuck is going on, I'm gonna have to smack you! You can't just shut us out, Chandler, you _can't_."

_You can't shut us out…. _

_I can't do this, Chandler…. _

_You will be receiving the results…._

_I'll see you…no wait, I _won't_…._

_You obviously don't understand…._

_Your father and I are getting divorced, sweetie…._

The voices blurred together in his head; a reminder of how he'd failed everyone; how everyone had failed him.

_why don't you, did you read the pamphlets, don't do, you aren't doing, try, don't, no, won't, can't. _

"Chandler? Are you alright!" Chandler opened his eyes to see Phoebe staring wildly at him, waving her arms wildly to try and get his attention. When he looked up at her, she stopped. And when she spoke again, her voice was softer. "We miss you too much, Chandler. And we know it may be selfish of us, but we _need_ you. We need you to make us laugh and…and laugh at our expense. We need you to come to us for help."

"Phoebe." Chandler got shakily to his feet. He wasn't sure what was going to say, or even what needed to be said, so he just hugged her. She hugged him back, and they stood there together for a long moment.

Finally she pulled away, eyes suspiciously bright. "Chandler, you really stink. Go take a shower. And then we'll talk. _All of us. _If you don't want to leave, I'll bring everyone here. Just give me a warning so I can clean up first, all right? Because I don't want Monica to have an aneurysm."

* * *

It wasn't until two hours later and a series of meditations Phoebe had made Chandler do involving herbs from her bag that Chandler got the full story of what had been going on the week that he was "away".

"Pheebs? I- I think you're right; that I, uh, have to tell all of you what's going on. But first, I want to go get Ross."

"But he already knows, doesn't he?" Phoebe asked matter-of-factly, and Chandler promptly choked on his gum.

"How do you _do _that?" he asked, once he had his breathing back under control. Phoebe smirked.

"I'm psychic, remember?" Off Chandler's stare, she relented. "Okay, it was a logical guess."

"Who'd have thought you'd ever use the word logical? Ross _must _be rubbing off on you."

Phoebe smiled. It was nice to see Chandler joking, although it was obvious whatever was wrong was pretty serious. Even though he had seemed eager to hear about everyone, there had been a distracted, nervous air to him that hadn't yet dissipated. "Speaking of which, you said something about going to get him. He's at his parents."

"Can we borrow your mother's cab?"

**AN: Okay, so I know Phoebe was extremely OC (out of character) in this chapter, but she needed to be. Please review! **


	5. In Which There is Melodrama

**AN: Thanks for the reviews! Just to clarify, Joey was at an audition when Phoebe staged an intervention on Chandler's behalf, so that's why he didn't ask what the hell was going on. I'm not very happy with this chapter, but I couldn't work with very much in this chapter. **

**MCEJBing: Yeah, that does make sense! I've always loved Phoebe, and was disappointed when Chandler and Phoebe never had any "bonding" moments in the actual sitcom. So I invented my own. **

"Can Ross come out and play?" Chandler asked jokingly, then winced when he received only a stony stare in reply.

Judy Geller stared suspiciously at Chandler and Phoebe. They did make an odd pair: Chandler with his sweater vest buttoned up crookedly ('Was he _high_ when he was getting dressed?' Judy thought derisively) and Phoebe with her eccentric clothing and jewelry.

"Can I help you two?"

"Uh, yeah, um, you remember us, right? We're friends of Ross," Chandler said hesitantly. He looked rather peaky, Judy noted. And unshaven.

"Yes," she said, unable to suppress a sneer. Chandler looked alarmed. Phoebe sighed impatiently.

"Look, can you please let us in?" she snapped. "It's _really_ important that that we talk to Ross."

Judy frowned, but obligingly moved out of the way to let them in. "I'll call him down."

* * *

She left them standing awkwardly in the living room, Chandler tapping his fingers nervously on the mantelpiece (_who_ had a _fireplace_ in their living room anymore?) and Phoebe frowned at the china knick-knacks on said mantelpiece.

"Chandler!" Ross asked in shock. "Pheebs?" They whirled to see Ross standing in the doorway, mouth open in shock. He looked different, and it took Chandler a moment to realize that it was due to the total lack of gel in his hair.

Phoebe apparently noticed it too. "Hey, wow, what's with your hair!"

Ross didn't even glance at her. "Are you alright?" He asked Chandler, and he shrugged.

"Maybe," he replied, and Ross nodded understandingly. There was an awkward silence. Ross kept glancing in-between Phoebe and Chandler, obviously wondering if Chandler had told Phoebe what was going on.

"Well," Phoebe said brightly. "We'd better be heading back."

"Back?" Ross and Chandler asked in unison. Phoebe rolled her eyes.

"Yes. Back. You promised, Chandler," she added reproachfully. Chandler just grimaced. He wasn't sure he could handle this. Handle Ross' worried eyes burning into the back of his neck, or the pitying glances he was sure he would receive from everyone.

At the risk of sounding melodramatic (although it was a little late for _that_), nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

Monica closed her eyes, leaning back into the couch. She was ashamed to feel tears well up when she noted the lack of Chandler's arm around her; a friendly gesture he had made often when he was over at their apartment. She felt silly, missing Chandler after it had only been eight days since they'd hung out, and five since she'd last spoken to him (yelled at him, actually), and she felt as though a piece of her was missing.

What made it worse was that Phoebe and Rachel weren't there either. Rachel was at her job, and Phoebe…Monica wasn't sure where Phoebe was. So Monica was all alone- jobless, friendless (it seemed like that, lately) and, well, although it sounded horribly cliché, _joyless_.

Monica wondered when she had started taking all her friends for granted. She could barely remember the time when she had first moved into her grandmother's apartment; Kip had been living across the hall and was looking for a roommate, and Ross had only stopped by occasionally. And now it felt like some weird alternate universe of her moving in with no Kip and therefore Chandler.

She sighed, abruptly getting up and exiting the apartment. Monica felt suddenly claustrophobic, and blamed it on watching _Scream _on Thursday without Chandler's wisecracks that usually made horror movies just funny enough so that she didn't get _too _frightened

What she didn't expect was to crash into someone directly at the top of the stairs. She staggered backwards a little from the force and felt her breath catch in her throat when she looked around to see who she had crashed into. Sprawled on the floor and staring up at her in shock was Chandler Bing.

* * *

Of course it had to be Monica that saw him lying on the floor, undoubtedly looking as though he had just been plowed over by a train instead of just bumping slightly into someone who weighed barely 100 pounds. (Of course, she was probably just getting a preview of what he would look like during chemotherapy, if his luck stayed on track.)

He felt like saying something poignant; something that would magically fix everything. Even one of his trademark quips would do in a pinch. Unfortunately, he wasn't feeling particularly witty. So all that came out was a surprisingly gravely, "Hey, Mon."

Chandler was alarmed to see tears fill her eyes. She wasn't supposed to be worried. She was supposed to be angry; or accepting; or maybe a little concerned; but not so upset. It occurred to him that he should probably get up off the filthy floor, but once he did, it would mean facing everyone. Ross was going down to the coffeehouse to get Joey and hopefully Rachel, and Monica was staring at him as though he had two heads.

Chandler sighed and hauled himself up painfully.

**Please review! **


	6. In Which There Are Multitudes of Awkward

**AN: Sorry I haven't updated in so long! There was a class trip, and graduation crap, and my birthday(!). I've been having a lot of trouble with this chapter, but it is longer! And there's probably just gonna be one more after this, with maybe an epilogue. **

**Chapter 6- In Which There Are Multitudes of Awkward Silences**

**Working Titles: In Which Monica Is A Wax Figurine, In Which Everyone Finds Out. **

"So all that's going on is that you broke up with Kathy?" Monica asked once she had dragged him inside and forced some semblance of an explanation out of him. She sounded a little angry, which didn't bode well for the unavoidable conversation. Neither did the fact that, well, she had apparently gotten the impression that the only problem was that he had broken up with Kathy. He had basically just murmured that he and Kathy had broken up- hence the usage of the word 'semblance.' "Why didn't you just tell us a week go?"

"Um, well you see, I- that is, there wasn't a good time."

"A good time! Of course not, Chandler- the six of us only hang out (or should I use the past tense) _every day_!"

_If Phoebe and Ross could just find Joey and Rachel and get them back here_….Chandler was beginning to reconsider the merits of telling everyone at once. He didn't think he could handle another minute of her yelling at him. Maybe he could just tell her now:

_'Monica, that's not all. I'm waiting for the results of my blood test.'_

_'What blood test?' _

_'I may have leukemia.' _

He would cry, she would cry, and everyone would be miserable, but at least they'd be miserable together.

"Chandler! Chandler, are you even listening to me! This is _our friendship, _and I know you're upset about Kathy, but can't we just _talk _about it?"

Yes. Talk. Perfect. He would tell her _why _Kathy had, in a word, dumped him, and then all the stupid avoidance of topics would be, well, avoided.

_Here goes. _

"The circumstances were less than perfect, because, um, because she- uh, the particulars…." Chandler trailed off and stared at her, noting that that sentence hadn't in fact, finished itself. And unfinished, it didn't exactly give off the impression that he had leukemia; rather that he needed to be put in a mental institution.

Monica stared at him expectantly, head tilted slightly to the side. Chandler swallowed, discovering that his mouth was completely dry, and that he was somehow out of breath. He had no desire to continue, but had the feeling that Monica wouldn't appreciate it if he nipped down the street to get a Coke.

"Look, Mon, I just- I just-" He trailed off again, hoping that Monica's imagination will fill in an explanation so he wouldn't have to. The expectant look hardened slightly. Hm. He wished he'd thought far enough to know how to finish that sentence.

"Well, Kathy, you know, she's a _lot like me_. I mean, I don't like to have sex with anyone who's sick, and she- she feels the same." Not the perfect opening, but it would suffice. He was after all, potentially….terminally sick. "We've got a lot in common. I mean, her parents are divorced, and so are mine. Of course, _her _dad's not gay, and he's never had sex with the pool boy- she never _had _a pool boy, actually-" Okay, so he apparently wasn't going to take it.

'_Just stop talking right now,' _Chandler sent that message furiously to his brain, but it was intercepted somehow, probably by his masochistic neurosis. "She grew up here in Manhattan, so she didn't have a pool at all. And you don't exactly _need_ a pool boy if you don't have a pool boy. So really-"

"Chandler," Monica finally snapped. "What are you _talking about_? Why did you and Kathy break up?" Chandler just stared at his tennis shoes. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. "It's not really about Kathy, is it, Chandler?"

"Well, no," Chandler began awkwardly, wondering if there was any possible way to change the subject without her noticing. "So, where _is _everyone?"

"Don't change the damned subject," Monica spat, looking dangerously close to tears for the second time that day. "Just _don't_."

There was another one of those unfortunately-now-familiar awkward silences. Chandler figured that the more you hated any kind of awkwardness, the more there was.

"I have leukemia," Chandler blurted without any intention of doing so, and in fact it took him a few moments to realize that the words had come out of _his_ own mouth. He had sounded disturbingly cheerful in a false, flight-attendant way, and….wait? Wasn't he supposed to say, '_Might?' 'I _might_ have leukemia?' _

When Chandler finally gathered the courage to look up, Monica was staring at him, one shaking hand brought to her mouth.

"You have- you have leukemia?"

"Well, maybe. As in maybe I do- and- and _maybe_ I don't," Chandler responded. The room was annoyingly out-of focus, and Chandler wanted to shut his eyes or sit down. But, _somehow, _he didn't think it would be wise to let Monica see him collapse for the second time that day, directly after she found out he might be diseased.

"I may have leukemia." There. It was short and simple; he hadn't just blurted it out, and there was no stalling and spluttering like the Delorean he'd owned in high school. And now leaving out important words, either. Maybe he'd be able to sound pleasant by the time he got around to telling his parents.

"What- what do you _mean_, you may have leukemia?" Joey asked, horrified.

"I mean, like I _may_ have, well, leukemia. It seems pretty self-explanatory, if you ask me," Chandler responded weakly.

"That is _not_ what he _meant," _Phoebe snapped, more due to the anxiety that Chandler had caused with this one simple statement than anything else. "I meant, like, how can you? You just can't have- you…." Phoebe trailed off miserably, and abruptly buried her face in her hands.

"Okay, the sad part of that was, I actually understood that," Chandler joked awkwardly. He tried not to notice that no one seemed ready to say anything further.

Rachel drew a shaky breath, got up, and crossed the room to where Chandler was sitting, kneeling down to hug him fiercely.

Monica smiled faintly from her place by the kitchen as she watched Chandler and Rachel embrace. The slightly warm feeling, despite the situation, was almost immediately swept away in the next moment- _why_ hadn't she thought to comfort Chandler when he needed it most? Monica shook her head, disgusted with herself. Instead, she had just _stood_ there- stiff and emotionless, like a wax figure.

Monica almost groaned aloud as she remembered that she hadn't, in fact, just stood there. She had in fact, asked, "So you and Kathy _didn't_ break up?" Why the hell had she said that? Now Chandler would think she was a deranged lunatic with a highly selective memory and the emotional range of a teaspoon.

The bottom line was, she just _had_ to prove to him that she cared; that she understood how hard this was for him and that she would stand by him.

"Mon, these waffles are really good," Joey said awkwardly, before stuffing a whole one into his mouth. Phoebe grimaced, averting her eyes. Everyone was making an attempt at a normal breakfast over at Monica and Rachel's apartment, but after greetings had been exchanged, no one seemed to have anything to say.

Phoebe had regaled them with an anecdote about how her alternate self, Phohonda, was doing, but all _that _had accomplished was a slight panicked feeling as Chandler realized that none of the responses that came into mind seemed remotely funny or clever.

Ross sighed, flicking a tine of his fork absently. He was possibly the only one with an alibi- he _did _have a job, after all, and no one had to know that he didn't have to be there until eleven. However, Monica had gathered everyone together and asked them to pretend that everything was normal.

"So," Monica said abruptly in a business-like tone, causing everyone to jump. Ross' fork clattered to the floor. "I looked up leukemia on the Internet, and, really, _many_ forms of leukemia can be _very_ easily treated. After all, it _is _the ninety's!"

Okay, do apparently, she had decided to discard Plan A and go with B- in which awkward pauses were replaced by mortified ones.

The world froze. Chandler stared at is plate, suddenly fascinated by the way the syrup filled the squares in the homemade waffles. No ready-made batter for Monica Geller. No beating around the bush, either.

He cleared his throat unnecessarily. "That's good to know." Chandler thought back to the annoying pamphlets, garish in their own cheerfulness, lying crumpled somewhere in the wormhole that was his room. Now Monica knew more about what he might be facing than _he _did. Chandler glanced furtively around the table, suddenly paranoid that they had all looked up the disease, and were even now drawing lots over who would accompany him to chemotherapy.

Not that they would even _be able _to look it up. None of them even had a computer. Speaking of which….Rachel seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"Hey, Mon?" she asked warily, "Where would you be able to get Internet access?"

"Oh, Mr. Heckles has it," Monica said off-handedly, ignoring the astounded looks she was getting. "Now, there are several types. One of them, CLL, can be controlled effectively with medication and may require little to no treatment in it's early stages."

Maybe it was because of the almost proud way in which she stated the facts; or simply the utter hopelessness the situation seemed to hold. For whatever reason, Chandler felt an anger burning in the back of his throat.

"So it'll be just like taking my vitamins," he intoned sarcastically. "D'you think they'll come in a _Flintstone bottle!" _The last part came out in a hiss, and as soon as they left his mouth he wanted to retract them. Monica's face took on a hurt expression, which she masked immediately.

"I'm sorry," she said in a voice Chandler hadn't heard since she'd broken up with Richard. "I shouldn't have brought it up and ruined your- your day."

She retreated to her room, and Chandler stared after her. He glanced around at everyone else, but they seemed particularly interested in the designs printed on the china plates. "Excuse me," he said as he stood up, pausing to dump his plate in the sink before heading after her.

He hesitated at the door, unsure of whether or not to knock, but, figuring he would barge in even if she told him to go away, he pushed the door open and slipped noiselessly into the room.

Monica was sprawled on the bed, hands covering her face. She hadn't even bothered to take off her shoes, which was worrying, and she didn't look up as he shut the door with a click, or when he sat on the edge of the bed.

Monica breathed in the smell of her own soap on her hands. Truthfully, the action was causing her to feel suffocated, but also wasn't prepared to take remove her hands from her face. Even if she kept her eyes closed, Monica was sure she would be able to feel Chandler's accusing stare on her. Because it was definitely Chandler, and he had every reason to be staring at her accusingly. Monica was furious at herself. What she had said…she was already acting as though he had leukemia!

"Mon." He touched her gently on the wrist, and she finally gathered the courage to look up at him through her fingers. To her surprise, his blue-gray eyes simply held concern- for _her. _Chandler shouldn't be worried about her! She should be comforting him, not falling to pieces because of a mistake she had made.

This though in mind, she sat up fully and smiled warily at him, pulling him into a hug when she received a go-ahead returning smile. Well, that was the plan, anyway. As it turned out, his warm arms encircling her made it feel more like he was reassuring her…again! Monica found she didn't really care.

They sat together, Monica with her head nestled carefully in his collar. She couldn't resist breathing in his scent, at first only to make sure that he didn't smell of cigarette smoke. What she didn't expect was for him to smell so…addicting. He smelled of a combination of scents, so thoroughly blended together that she couldn't separate one from another. But it definitely had an overtone of…mangos? Monica couldn't help think that she could spend her entire life trying to decipher his scent.

Or would she have to settle for _his_ entire life?

"All right?" Chandler whispered in the shell of his ear, and it wasn't until then that she realized that she was crying.

**AN: Hope that was enough Mondler…well, can you call it mush if it's this angsty? Please review!**


	7. In Which Chandler Gets the Hang of Thurs

**AN: Okay. Here's (finally) the next chapter. I think everybody has either forgotten or stopped caring that it exists by now, but whatever. This is chapter 6.5, entitled "In Which Chandler Gets the Hang of Thursdays" Also, the reason that the apartments are not switched is because Chandler would have been avoiding everyone around the time of TOW The Embryos, and the bet just never happened. And Phoebe being surrogate for her brother…that will be mentioned in this chapter- I just screwed up the timeline. Let's pretend I did it on purpose. **

**And Emily, well, I'm not sure exactly where she came in in Season 4 (I don't have that season on dvd) but she'd not in this story. Nor is Joshua. **

**Also, I am very disappointed in _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_. Very. It has also occurred to me that I read abnormally fast, and staying up all night to finish a book is not healthy. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: LucyGoose, SFGrl, fashion hottie, Niola, and Nicole. **

_'He never could get the hang of Thursdays.'_

_-Arthur Dent; Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_

Even after, well, _everything, _Chandler had still had a bit of optimism left, because he'd for some reason expected everything to be okay with him and Monica after that morning. She would understand, and it would be a the-two-of-them-against-the-world thing.

He'd thought he was only being realistic in saying that. Phoebe had used to say that they were like one person sometimes. Emotionally connected on the supernatural level. Instead, Monica had stopped talking about it altogether. For the next two days, she had been calm and serene, and exactly like before, except not, if that made sense.

She was quieter, and seemed to just buzz around aimlessly instead of cleaning or cooking. They were all expected to fend for themselves for breakfast, and always ended up going to _Central Perk _and consumed highly unbalanced meals of coffee and scones or muffins or bagels (or, in Joey's case, several plates of all three categories). Mon still made lunch and dinner for everyone, but had taken to absently dishing out food onto everyone's plates with a distracted and detached air that reminded Chandler of the crabby live-in cook he'd had as a kid.

"I can do that myself," he'd finally pointed out, almost wishing she had been treating him like a nine-year old because of her maternal instincts, not because she was looking for something to do that would keep her on her feet.

"That's alright. I don't mind," she'd replied, staring absently at where Joey had just splattered ketchup. Chandler had contemplated throwing his glass of water in her face. Maybe he'd get a blink, if she was feeling generous with her emotions.

So he'd decided to leave her to get past the 'denial' stage and tie up other 'loose ends', so to speak. In hindsight, he probably should have waited until he knew for sure, but however the job got done.

Nora Bing wasn't sure where the chair came from but was eternally grateful it was there, blessing the person who put it there, the person who made it, and even the person who came up with the very idea of a chair in the first place.

Her son had always been something of an enigma to her. Nora could remember walking into the house after a book tour, the buzz of escape already pounding a headache behind her eyes. Chandler had been a quiet child; nothing more than a shadow in the large bright house. Charles would sometimes try to "get to know" Chandler; Nora now remembered; to push his straggly hair out of his face and actually try and _see_ him; but he was usually busy screwing the pool boy.

And now he was might be gone forever from her; not in the mental sense that Nora was always sure would fix itself by the time she came back to New York; but in the real way that would affect not only her but all his friends. The tall shy Ross and his Rachel and the rest of them.

Chandler had her hair. That was something that had always, strangely, stuck out in her mind. In the year after Chandler's birth, Nora's hair had grown out of it's current dye job (an auburn she now severely regretted) and it's original brown color had shown for the first time in a long time. She had almost regretted re-dying it, to no longer be able to point out one physical trait she shared with her son. His eyes were, according to Charles, his aunt Muriel's; and the reason that Chandler had the unfortunate middle name that he did. Chandler could very well blame his father for that as well. Charles Bing was convenient like that.

Nora shook her head to clear it, slightly disturbed by the fact that her hair, stiff with styling products, hardly moved when she did so.

"Are you _sure_, darling," she asked, further disturbed by the fact that her voice warbled on the enunciation.

"Well, I'm not sure I have leukemia. I just told you that," Chandler said calmly, and he sounded amazingly self-assured. Since when was he able to hold things together better than his mother, the Queen of Talk Shows? If it had been another type of situation, Nora would have been proud. As it was, she simply felt nauseous.

"Does your father know?" Chandler, much to Nora's surprise, looked angry and the seemingly reasonably question.

"Could you give it a rest just once? Yes, I told you first! Does everything have to be a contest between you two? Because-"

"Chandler, honey, that wasn't why I asked. I was just wondering." Nora wasn't sure what to say. The last time Chandler had verbally attacked her like this was when she had kissed Ross. It had been stupid, but he had seemed to think that she never paid attention to him! Honestly, the reason she had been in the same room with Ross was that-

However, now was not the time to ponder Chandler's thought process back then. He was staring at her suspiciously, eyes flashing angrily in a way reminiscent of how Nora imagined the look on Aleron's face in _Mistress Bitch_ when he finds out that Dominique has been having an affair in his _own_ opera house.

"Well, I'm _sorry_ for thinking that. Because it's not as if you've ever done anything like that before! Like with the pool boy, and Frank, and Dean and Kevin, Mark, George, Bertram, Hank, Russell, Tyler, Ron, Norman, Michel, Leroy, Justin….and that was only the year you and dad were getting divorced!" He stopped, half-turning away from her and scowling at the wall.

"Whatever," he muttered finally. "It doesn't matter."

What he'd really been saying; back there, was that _he _didn't matter. All that mattered to her was her long-going fight with a man who no longer cared. A man that was arguably no longer a _man_, actually.

He'd had quite enough.

But in the end, he hadn't been able to go through with it. Hadn't been able to finally tell her off completely, and be able to finally tell her _everything. _Instead, he had once again ran away with his tail between his legs.

Chandler was quite willing to blame it on the fact that he'd just never liked Thursdays.

That was all.

'_And it's gotten to that point_.'

It'd gotten to the point where he was making up excuses like that one.

Maybe it was because he didn't want to understand her. It was easier to pretend she was just back story for his hilariously pitiful life. He didn't want there to be a reason for her decisions. Thinking of her as a real person, _with decisions,_ just made it that much harder to deal with the fact that she couldn't love him. Didn't love him.

So far, the 'joyful parent-son reunion' tv special hadn't gone very well. But, he could always try his hand at craps or the slot machines if the second trip didn't end in happy reunions and understandings.

Okay, so at least the sarcasm was back. He'd been getting worried.

When Chandler entered 'Helena Handbasket's' dressing room, he was already shaken. As he first entered the burlesque, a leering…person in a low-cut black dress had sauntered up to him. If Chandler hadn't been previously aware that this was an all-male burlesque, there would have been some awkward stuttering as Chandler tried to figure out how to address this person. As it was, he was barely able to take his eyes off the tabletop as he requested to meet with Helena Handbasket. The drag queen frowned in what seemed to be disappointment. It was lucky Chandler knew that to be his father's stage name, because he was sure no one would recognize the name 'Charles Bing.'"

As the drag queen led him to his father's dressing room, patrons looking for entertainment between shows stared at him curiously, eyes lidded from the effect of alcoholic drink.

And _then_, after knocking on the door and receiving no answer he had pushed it open to see his father kissing another man. That was not in itself so scarring (it wasn't as if he'd never seen _that_ before) but when the man turned out to be Mr. Garibaldi, his old music teacher, Chandler began to feel a little light-headed.

Chandler must have made some sort of shocked noise, because Mr. Garibaldi's head shot up with a start. When he saw Chandler, his eyes registered first annoyance with some embarrassment, than shocked recognition.

"Chandler?" he asked incredulously after a moment, and Charles, who hadn't bothered to look up before but has shifted to kissing Mr. Garibaldi's neck, looked up sharply. Chandler fought off a grimace. His father had done several things to further the image of Helena Handbasket- some sort of lip surgery, and definitely another nose job.

It was then that it really registered with Chandler what he was doing. Flying out here on a whim to see his _father_. The man that he hadn't spoken with or seen since the summer after he turned fourteen. There had been quite a few reasons Chandler hadn't returned his calls before, and they all came rushing back to him now.

The thirty seconds in which Mr. Garibaldi babbled an apologetic excuse and rushed out of the room, leaving father and son staring at each other was a vague blur. None of this was what Chandler had expected to find when he had come here. He had expected the place to smell of incense and sex and beer; the closest to hell as possible; as that was what Chandler felt he was entering. Instead it reeked of heavy perfume and several genres of beauty products that Chandler couldn't for his life place in any category other than 'bad for the environment.' (Phoebe would have a fit.) Chandler wasn't sure what he was supposed to expect anymore. He hadn't expected Mr. Garibaldi, that was for sure, and he hadn't expected Charles Bing to be looking as lost as Chandler felt, instead of easily slipping into the role of 'Helena Handbasket' jazz hands and all.

Eventually, Chandler figured he'd have to give some sort of an explanation for why he was here, because his father didn't seem about to say anything anytime soon. But he didn't want to make the same mistake he'd made with his mom; just coming out and saying that he _might _have leukemia seemed unnecessarily cruel. For the first time, Chandler wished he'd thought to read the letters his father had sent on the plane. He certainly wasn't going to take them out here; but if he left now, Chandler knew he'd never gain the courage to come back.

"I _did_ try to wait," Charles murmured suddenly. He sounded almost desperate for Chandler to believe whatever he was trying to say. Chandler blinked.

"What?"

Charles cleared his throat, sat down, and gestured for Chandler to sit in the chair opposite him before continuing in a halting tone.

"I- I always knew I was gay, long before your mother and I got married. Nora was…lovely, but we were never in love. We only married because, well…" Charles hesitated, looking slightly guilty, before plunging bravely onward. "Because Nora was pregnant with you."

Chandler stared blankly at his father. That was just great. Instead of even remotely fixing _anything _in his messed-up life, he had found out that all of the crap his parents had put each other through was, essentially, his fault. His father might be happily married in Canada with someone, with no worries of sending Christmas cards to anyone or alimony to anyone else, and his mother. And his mother would maybe be happily married to a straight man _her age _if she'd never married Charles Bing.

Maybe not, but _still. _

Charles seemed to sense what Chandler was thinking, and shook his head empathetically. He reached forward to place his hand on Chandler's shoulder, changed his mind, and awkwardly changed the gesture to fanning his face to ward off the heat.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear. _None of this was ever your fault_. I thought I was doing the right thing by proposing, and she thought she was doing the right thing by accepting. We were both wrong. I could have helped her out in other ways. Given her money…I ended up doing that anyway. Even so, we were both so happy when you were born. I thought I could wait until you were eighteen, or older, safely away at college, until we divorced, and I…came out of the closet, to use a crude and clichéd expression. As you can see, it didn't work. We were both sleeping with Giorgio, secrets eventually came out, and the person hurt most by this was the one innocent in this whole web of lies: you."

Charles paused and looked at Chandler hopefully, but Chandler wasn't sure exactly what was expected of him, so found it safest to stay silent. Charles sighed again, and adjusted a bracelet on his left wrist.

"I wanted to keep you in my life, Chandler, but the divorce was so…messy, and you wanted nothing to do with me. I don't blame you, really."

Chandler sat, stunned, and uncomprehending. So pretty much all he had believed about his father was a lie. Charles hadn't abandoned his family; or at least not his son. Truthfully, Chandler could have figured that out without any outward help from his father; Charles had, after all, tried to be a good father to him after the divorce. Was it his fault that he wasn't sure what being a good father entailed? A screaming match between Charles and Chandler (well, Charles hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise, so basically Chandler had just screamed at his father) after his freshman year had led to Chandler flying back to New York early and never returning to Las Vegas every other holiday like the custody papers had originally declared.

"Dad, I…I was wrong. The divorce wasn't your fault. Not completely. And I- I just wanted to come here and …straighten things out, I guess."

Chandler had truly never felt like more of a horrible human being in his entire life. He and his…his dad (it felt weird referring to him as dad instead of Charles--and without a bitter tone, at that!) had spent almost two hours talking- Charles had even postponed one of his shows- and Chandler had yet to tell Charles what he had originally come here to do.

"Dad," he said finally, when Charles had turned to the mirror and began to apply lipstick, looking almost secretive, as though he didn't want to further remind Chandler that his father was a drag queen, "I have to tell you something."

Charles looked at him through the reflection in the mirror.

"I-well, I didn't really come here to catch up with you. Not _just_ anyway," he added rather lamely. Charles' expression was curiously blank.

"Ah, yes," he said quietly. "I thought it was a little sudden. I suppose you need money? I know your mother; she probably spent it all on makeup." He turned away from the mirror, and began to dig through several drawers.

'Her fourth and fifth weddings, actually,' Chandler thought, but couldn't seem to make his mouth move and produce those words or any others.

"I'm the one that left you," Charles went on steadily. "I'm the one that owes you so much; not just money, but _memories_. I did send you a check with every birthday card, but I don't expect you opened any, did you?"

Chandler did manage to move his lips this time, but still no sound came out of them. Charles took this as a 'yes' (he wouldn't be wrong) and smiled sadly.

"Well, I suppose-"

"Dad!" Chandler interrupted, finally finding his voice before Charles could make him feel any guiltier for something he hadn't even been planning to ask for, "that's _not why _I came! I came to, to I guess make up with you, but the thing is…it wasn't sudden. It wasn't random. At least not for me."

Chandler hesitated, unable to look directly at his father. Oddly enough, this was probably the hardest time he would have saying this. Somehow, just the simple phrase he'd used with everyone else didn't seem enough now. Nothing seemed enough.

"I- I went to the doctor's for a routine check-up, and as it turns out…I may have leukemia."

"WHERE WERE YOU?" Monica screeched as he entered Apartment 19. Chandler froze and tried to look innocent. He'd known that everyone would be worried, but had been relying on the hope that they would be waiting over at Monica and Rachel's. That was where everyone always was, anyway.

"_Where have you been_?" Monica repeated, this time in a quieter, more deadly tone. Chandler shrugged off the gym bag he'd had slung over his shoulder--he'd used it as a carry-on-- and leaned against the counter, debating internally whether or not trying to look as exhausted and depressed as he felt would be an advantage.

"We were really worried, Chandler," Rachel said, more calmly. Ross nodded furiously from behind her. His arms were draped around her, and she was leaning into him, Chandler noted with some surprise. Were they _together_ again?

Chandler made a mental note to ask after Monica stopped staring at him like she was about to either cry or kill him.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I just had to do something."

"I highly doubt that '_something' _had to be done without you telling us where you were going," Ross said heatedly, and Chandler glared at him. That right there was yet _another_ reason he hadn't wanted to tell anybody: they started to act as though he was about six years old.

"Is that a _Toblerone_ bar?" Joey asked excitedly, and Monica, Ross, and even Rachel glared at him. "Sorry," he muttered, abashed, although he brightened considerably when Chandler stuffed the large candy bar into his hands.

"Yeah, I got it at the airport. Thought-"

"AIRPORT?" Monica squeaked. Chandler sighed. It was like pulling off a Band-Aid. It was best to get it over with.

"Yes. The airport. I went to visit my parents."

"Your parents?" Ross choked, turning a strange shade of lavender. Chandler squinted at him, wondering if he needed someone to perform the Heimlich Maneuver on him.

"Not at the same time or place," he reassured Ross. He was probably worried because he knew how Chandler's parents got when in the same room together. Or at least, Chandler had told him enough so that he could imagine. Strangely enough, Ross' mind didn't seem to be put to rest.

"How- how could you visit them?" he spluttered. "You know how they can get- _I _know how they can get. What good could possibly come from seeing _either one of them_, but _especially_ your dad."

Chandler bristled. A couple of hours ago, he would have whole-heartedly agreed with Ross. But now…anyway, that wasn't even the _point_. Ross had no right to tell Chandler what he should and shouldn't do.

"I think it's _great_ that he went to see his dad." Rachel, to his surprise, leapt to his defense, twisting away from Ross and glaring at him. She turned back to Chandler, eyes softening. "Did you tell them?"

"Yeah." Chandler nodded, mouth suddenly feeling very dry. He was so glad that Rachel, at least, was on his side. And presumably Joey, who had abandoned the interrogation to stuff his face with the _Toblerone_ bar.

Monica's mouth tightened. "You _knew _about this?" she accused Rachel.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Of _course_ not. But really, why else would he suddenly fly out to visit both his parents in one day if not to tell them about…current events?"

Monica nodded, and all the anger seemed to drain out of her. "Right," she said wearily. "That _does_ make sense."

Chandler straightened, as his left leg was beginning to fall asleep. "Where's Pheebs?" he asked, glancing around as though Monica might have hidden her in the entertainment unit as a key part of her intervention. He hadn't _just_ noticed her absence, but a change of subject seemed to be in order.

Monica frowned at him. "She's at the doctor's. They're checking to see if the embryos can be implanted."

If Chandler had been drinking anything at that moment, he would have executed a fabulous spit-take.

"What? Implanted? Embryos? What!"

Monica looked shocked and guilty. Chandler was personally getting a little tired of having that expression directed at him so much over the past week. "You don't know. We never told you," she said, stating the obvious. "Well, Phoebe- she- to start with, Frank and Alice eloped."

"Frank and Alice?" Chandler repeated dumbly. The names seemed familiar, but he couldn't find faces and identities to match.

"Phoebe's half brother and his, well, new wife."

Chandler remembered now. An ill-shaven young man with bags under his eyes who liked to melt things, and a fussy home-ec teacher who seemed to have just stepped out of a _Leave it to Beaver _episode.

"Well, they eloped, and…they wanted to have kids. Then they found that they couldn't, and asked Phoebe to be the surrogate mother."

"Surrogate?" asked Joey in confusion. He had finished the _Toblerone_ bar and wandered back over to where everyone else stood. "No, Mon, Pheebs isn't changing her religion; she's having their babies for them."

Monica, Ross, and Rachel rolled their eyes in a strange, scary unison, but no one bothered to correct him. Chandler sat down on a stool, feeling immensely guilty. Because everyone was focusing on him, no one had bothered to support Phoebe (at least not while he was in the room) because they were all worried about _him_. Worried about what could be nothing. Either way, they couldn't do anything about it.

And no one had _told him_. Chandler found it unlikely that it had slipped their minds. They probably all thought that he already had too much to worry about. What else weren't they telling him? Well, there was the possibility that Ross and Rachel were back together, and if they were, they weren't telling him. Did anyone else have new love interests? Did Monica?

Chandler forced away the strange, dark feeling in the pit of his stomach and concentrated on trying to look perfectly happy for Phoebe and not at all like someone who had so much to worry about that no one should tell him anything.

If the doctor would just call for the results, maybe Chandler could feel some emotion, instead of just feeling numb.

**AN: Please review! (If you do, I promise I won't wait as long to put up the next chapter. Seriously, I already have the ending written.) **


End file.
